


Strings

by BitZombie



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, I Was Enabled, M/M, This is such an unhealthy concept, WELL HERE WE GO FOLKS, theres no update schedule for this im Winging It, you know exactly who you are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitZombie/pseuds/BitZombie
Summary: "Wait... Carbonite. How long was I... out?”“The records we found with you were heavily encrypted. The closest estimate is approximately fifty years. It’s been a long time, Cal Kestis.”A lot has happened in the Galaxy in fifty years. A lot has happened, but nothing - nothing at all - has changed.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Armitage Hux
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	Strings

“... think he’s waking up...”

“... someone send word to the General, he wanted to know _immediately_...”

“... _Kestis?_ Cal Kestis, can you...”

“...not responding, I need a medical droid...”

* * *

There is nothing as deeply terrifying to a force-sensitive child as the thought of being cut off. Even isolated and alone, those aware of the Force can feel it, a presence in their very being that connects them to the galaxy in a myriad of ways so much deeper than mere physical presence could ever hope to emulate. But to _lose_ that? To lose something so much a part of you that you never even noticed its presence until all you could feel was the gaping void within you where it used to live?

Cal has never wished for death as strongly as he does in this moment, poised between sleep and waking.

There is nothing but pain in him – his head, his muscles, even his skin – and no matter how hard he tries to focus outward, away from the agony, there is nothing there for him to grab a hold of. There’s only an absence, a roaring abyss that echoes back everything his body is screaming at him as he struggles awake.

Full awareness is worse, all the nerves in Cal’s body lighting up in pain enough to tear a low groan out of him, and it takes every last bit of willpower he has to swallow the panic he can feel building in the back of his throat. His vision is obscured and there’s something on his face that’s trapping his breath, making him feel suffocated and even more ill than he thought possible.

Tilting his head to the side in an attempt to pull off whatever is obscuring his vision, Cal’s movement is interrupted by a cool hand on his cheek, deft fingers removing the breathing mask strapped to his face. Instinctively he flinches away, fully prepared for some sort of echo despite the ever-present void where his connection to the force should be. When the only thing he feels is the brush of the mask being pulled from his face, followed by the return of those fingers brushing against the curve of his jaw, he lets out a sharp breath, eyes wide and unseeing at the shock of _nothingness_.

“It’s about time you woke up. You gave the medical team a thorough challenge trying to keep you alive. If it hadn’t been your life at stake I’d have gone so far as to say your determination was commendable.” The voice is calm, almost sharp in its precision, and in direct opposition to the gentle hand on Cal’s skin. The contact drags his attention outwards and away from the yawning pit within him, and the cool temperature is a welcome change to the burning pain coursing through his skin. Against his better judgement, Cal finds himself leaning into the touch, reveling in the brief reprieve and using it to gather his thoughts as best he can through the fog in his mind.

“... Who... Where... am I? Why can’t... I... see you?” _Why can’t I feel anything but pain?_ The words catch in his throat as he speaks, and they set off a coughing fit that doesn’t end until the man at his side places a straw at his lips and urges him to drink. The last sip backfires on him and he chokes, spilling water down his chin and coughing hard enough to send stars dancing across the darkness of his vision. Ever patient, his apparent caretaker pulls away with the drink before returning to dry Cal’s face with a soft cloth, though the unexpected contact still draws a violent flinch from him. The only reaction from his visitor is a quiet pause before continuing.

“You’re suffering from the aftereffects of prolonged Carbonite stasis. I’ve been assured that the blindness is temporary, as is any pain.” Finished with the cloth, the hand returns, empty, to rest on Cal’s forehead, a cool balm against what he now knows is a fever racing through his blood. “You’re in a private medical ward – your body did not react well to being removed from stasis, so you’ve been placed under the best possible care until you recover enough to be moved.”

The words are reassuring but lacking in information. Cal’s memory is worryingly blank, and when he tries to think back, he winces hard at the pain that lances through his skull in response. Flashes – of blaster shots, of lights, of stars out in space – crowd his mind, and the mental cacophony pushes a whimper from his lips, leading him to push his head further into that cool palm to crowd out the onslaught of information. In response, a thumb brushes rhythmically back and forth across the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t remember... Why... can’t I feel...” _The Force_ , he doesn’t say.

“Ah. Yes. When you first regained consciousness you were delirious, and your... abilities were making it extremely difficult for the medical droids to even approach you. The suppressors are a temporary measure. I simply didn’t want you feeling overwhelmed while your body tries to recover.” As he speaks, the man’s other hand brushes against Cal’s wrist, jostling something and bringing his attention to the heavy bracelets that, in his weakened state, pin his arms to the blanket below. They don’t hurt but now that he knows they’re there, he can feel their presence in his mind like an Imperial blast door, cutting him off.

The confirmation that his connection to the Force is being suppressed causes ice to slide through Cal’s veins, coupled with a heady and sick kind of relief. True, he’s cut off, practically powerless. But if what he’d hurt someone? Not to mention the idea of having to deal with his psychometry on top of his current agony and disorientation makes him feel faint with nausea. Cal’s almost thankful for them, after that particular thought. He swallows down the churning in his stomach and takes a deep breath, doing his best to centre himself without the help of the Force.

“Then thanks... hope I didn’t hurt anybody.” It’s quiet, almost lost under the rasp of his breath, but Cal can tell he’s been heard when the hand at his head pauses in its movement. A brief rustle of cloth and the hand pulls away, prompting a sharp intake of breath from Cal as he loses the minor distraction of contact. Before he can embarrass himself further, it returns once more, brushing sweat-damp hair off his cheek.

“A couple of droids might bear some battle scars from being flung across the medical bay, but nothing permanent, I’m told.”

For a moment there is silence, Cal’s breathing and the ever-present hum of medical devices only barely masking the distinctive sound of someone tapping at a datapad.

“That’s good, I guess.” The more he speaks, the less Cal feels like he’s inhaled a bunch of glass shards, and the easier the words come. The rest of his entire being is still screaming at him like he just went five rounds with a Jotaz, and without the Force he feels off balance, struggling to string words together quickly, but at least it doesn’t feel like speaking is impossible anymore.

“Yes, well, I imagine coming out of Carbonite after so long would have made anyone a bit oversensitive to so much sensation. No one blames you for it.” There’s the weight of the datapad being placed just next to Cal’s hip on the bed, and then both of those cool hands are wrapping slim fingers around Cal’s palm and tracing the metal cuff on his wrist, “Like I said, these are just for your comfort while you recover.”

Turning the words over in his mind, Cal decides to take them at face value for now, despite the discomfort settling low in his gut. “That’s a relief – Wait... Carbonite. How long was I... out?”

“The records we found with you were heavily encrypted. The closest estimate is approximately fifty years. It’s been a long time, Cal Kestis.”

Almost as soon as he hears them spoken, the words trigger a profound sensation of loss, and Cal doesn’t even bother to disguise the hitch in his breath as he feels himself begin to cry. He knows fifty years is too long, much too long. Whoever might have been looking for him – and he knows someone was, he can feel it with a certainty he doesn’t feel for much outside of pain at the moment – will have long given up by now. It feels less like a new wound, and more like someone has reached deep into his core and torn open some long-healed scar, and he has been left alone with the pain of it.

He isn’t truly alone though, and as he cries, he grips instinctively at the hand in his, curling in towards the contact as much as he can for whatever comfort it can provide. And through it all, his visitor sits quietly, brushing the tears from Cal’s face and making no comment as Cal sobs brokenly into the still air of the medical ward. When eventually he calms down, he releases his grip on his visitor’s hand, feeling the fingers in his palm flex as though to prompt the flow of blood.

“Sorry,” Cal hiccups, awkwardly patting the hand with clumsy brushes of his fingers, “Guess I don’t know my own strength anymore... Or anything else.” The echoing cavern where his memories should be is terrifying, and he shies away from thinking about it with a quiet groan.

The hand withdraws slowly with a final brush against the metal cuff at Cal’s wrist, and the sound of shoes squeaking against a polished floor signals his visitor’s impending departure.

“I’m certain it’s a shock. The amnesia will pass in time, and in the meanwhile, you have my word that any information we find concerning you, I will personally bring to your attention. You deserve to know exactly who you are, after all.”

The sudden realization that whoever this man is, the first physical and social contact Cal has had in over fifty years is about to walk out the door, causes a bone-deep terror to run down Cal’s spine. Reflex has him thrusting an arm out in the general direction of his visitor in attempt to grab a sleeve, or hand, or even pant leg to stop his only connection to reality from disappearing, and he almost sobs again when his numb fingers connect with fine wool.

“Wait! I...” He can’t bring himself to ask if his companion would stay – He speaks like a commander, there’s no way he can waste time keeping Cal company because he’s afraid of his own temporary fragility. Instead, he swallows roughly, and forces himself to let go of the soft material in his hands.

“Sorry I just...” Before he can stumble his way through an apology of his impulsive actions, familiar fingers make their way back to his temples. To Cal’s surprise, the flinch he expects at the unexpected contact doesn’t come, and he relaxes into his pillow instead, suddenly exhausted.

“This entire ordeal would be a traumatic experience for anyone. Don’t apologize for your instincts – they keep you alive.” A pause, and then, “I’m afraid I do have to leave, the medical staff will have my head if I don’t let you rest.” Those cool fingers continue to brush against the thin skin at his temples, lulling Cal further into an exhausted stupor until and

The last thing he hears is the sound of a door sliding open, and an automated voice calling out.

“General Hux, sir. You’re being summoned to the bridge.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of regrets, trust me. And there will only continue to be more of them.
> 
> BUT y'all can thank tumblr user cheapbourbon for introducing me to this ship (and au) via their absolutely amazing art. (and also Admiral and everyone else on the discord server for encouraging it incessantly and letting me bounce ideas off them).
> 
> If by some miracle you saw this fic and read it, thank you. Feel free to leave a kudos and hmu on tumblr @ boganodawns for more... of this?


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